


Sherlock Holmes vs The Cat

by FandomNutter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Annoyed Sherlock, Gen, Humor, One Shot, get a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomNutter/pseuds/FandomNutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's sister unexpectedly gives the boys a pet</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes vs The Cat

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Новый сосед](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7281937) by [VassaR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VassaR/pseuds/VassaR)



Sherlock put down his blowtorch as he heard John clomping up the stairs. The door creaked open and John called into the kitchen, “Harry gave us a gift.”

“Put it on the table, I am testing the affects of burning various objects,” Sherlock muttered as his friend entered the room.

“Sherlock,” John said quietly.

“What?” he sighed not turning around.

“Harry got us a cat.”

“A cat? What are we going to do with a cat?” Sherlock frowned brushing some ash from the counter onto the floor.

“You know, feed it, um, why do I have to explain this to you?” John said before realizing Sherlock might never understand the concept. He resisted the urge to compare Sherlock’s existence to that of a cat. Barely.

“Its your cat.” Sherlock stated as a small mushroom cloud was emitted from a beaker.

“Fine,” John replied placing the crate on the floor and opening it, “but I am going out tonight. You two just try to be friends.”

Sherlock glanced up from his test tubes as the cat walked out of the crate. Short grey fur, lanky, green eyes, small tattoo in left ear, arrogant. A purebred. Brilliant.

 

The cat wandered off around the flat and Sherlock continued his experiment. The house was silent except for the occasional combustion, and the cat was almost forgotten. Sherlock switched off his blowtorch and stood to get his skull for company. As he reached the mantle there was a crash from the kitchen. He returned to see the cat running away from a smashed beaker. Glowering Sherlock cleaned up the spill and reconstructed the experiment.

Deciding it was time to visit his mind palace Sherlock grabbed his phone and collapsed on the couch. He placed his phone on the arm rest and closed his eyes. A second latter he jumped as a paw batted him through the cushions.

Sherlock glared at his furry pest for a minute before lying down again. The cat jumped on his chest. He pushed it off. The cat jumped on his face. Exasperated Sherlock tried to grab it but the cat danced out of his reach. Giving up he shut his eyes. A thud told him the cat had knocked the phone off the couch.

“John!” Sherlock shouted before remembering he had left hours ago. Groaning he leaned over and snatched up his phone. He dialed Lestrade and waited impatiently until the DI picked up. “Lestrade, I need to get rid of a cat.”  
“Not my division,” click.  
Damn him.

Sherlock texted John,

No matter how inconvenient, get back here.  
Now.  
SH

A few minutes latter when he received, “I will be home in five,” Sherlock dragged himself off the couch. Yawning he walked back into the kitchen and realized a heart he had left to soak in salt water was missing. He spun around to see the cat eat the last bite of the organ.

Sherlock walked deliberately towards the animal is it began to clean its paws. He grabbed the cat and it yowled in protest as he carried it to the sink. Sherlock turned on the cold water and held the cat under the stream as it clawed up his arm. It managed to escape as John entered the flat and ran crying to him.

“Sherlock, what the hell happened to the cat?” John asked with concern as the animal dripped on the floor.

“John that cat ate my experiment!”

“You should not have left it out. Cats do not know any better.” John said walking to the bathroom to get towels.

The cat pranced over to the table of case files and stood dripping on a open folder, daring Sherlock to retaliate.

When John reentered the room Sherlock doubled over wheezing. He looked up at John with watering eyes and gasped, “I...I think I am allergic to the cat.”

“That was sudden.” John frowned forgetting the dripping feline.

“It scratched my arm,” Sherlock coughed holding up his bleeding limb, “John, I think I am dying.”

“Your not going to die,” John said looking worried, “but you should wash those scratches.”

The cat meowed and ran to John again. Sherlock sneezed and John grabbed the cat, his jumper absorbing a good amount of water in the process.

“What are we going to do with it?” John asked as it squirmed.

“You need to return it,” Sherlock wheezed, “or give it to Anderson.”

“Right,” John said as he forced the writhing animal back into the crate, “get some MHRA approved allergy meds if you do not feel better soon. And open some windows.”

John turned to leave and Sherlock smiled at the eyes glinting evilly out of the crate. When he was sure John had left the flat he cleared his throat and started breathing normally.  
“That was tedious,” he said to himself wiping his eyes. After spreading out the papers to dry he he rang the morgue for another heart.

 

As Sherlock was rinsing out a beaker there was a scratching noise and a mouse appeared on the other side of the room. Drying his hands he reached for John’s gun.  
Who needs a cat anyway?


End file.
